


Superman

by StrawhatsAndDelibirds



Category: One Piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 17:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4969081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawhatsAndDelibirds/pseuds/StrawhatsAndDelibirds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Also known as Justsbecauseidon'thavealastname</p>
            </blockquote>





	Superman

There’s a lot of thing that a little privacy can do. Especially since the only other person on the ship right now was Luffy. Normally this would mean zero privacy could be had, but over the time he had known the rubber man, he found a pattern to his seemingly insatiable hunger. There were certain times of the day where he without fail would come into the kitchen and try and steal food. Luffy didn’t really like spending much time inside, and if he knew his captain, right now he was probably sitting on the Sunny’s figure head staring out into the endless blue horizon.

He’d go and hang out with him and chat or something when he was done cleaning his kitchen. It’d be nice to just have some time to talk one on one without wanting to do something else. It seemed as though there was always someone who wanted to talk to him in any other convenient time, and any time Luffy sought him out to just chat, he was either trying to focus on a more challenging dish or trying to sleep. And that really was how Luffy worked so he had no reason to be surprised.

In all honesty, even if it was stupid as shit, he wouldn’t mind half the mind bogglingly stupid questions the rubber man had to as late at night now that he was awake. They’d still be incredibly stupid, but at least they’d probably be more tolerable and he’d feel a lot less like he was going to beat the shit out of the dumbass for waking him up to ask a stupid question like that.

But first he’d have to finish up cleaning his kitchen. It was that time of the week where he really cleaned his kitchen. He cleaned as he went along, but he liked to do at least one really good once over of his kitchen in great detail to make sure that everything was still spotless. Anything less wouldn’t even meet his standards in the slightest.

Scrubbing away at every inch of his kitchen didn’t really need for him to be as mentally there as other tasks, so he allowed his mind to wander a bit. Sure he made sure to keep an ear out in case there was trouble, but other than that he wasn’t really there. He put himself on an autopilot, so to speak, and let his mind think of other things.

First and foremost, he had to start thinking of supper. It was still a few hours away, but today was one of the days where he felt like making something spectacular and he wasn’t sure if it was just a whim, or a left over excitement of getting new ingredients to work with. Maybe when some of the others came back he’d go back out and check to see if he could find some local dishes to work with. Or if everyone was taking their time getting back to the ship, he maybe he’d just do some of the more fun dishes that he used to make back on the Baratie. He had the ingredients for it.

Hell, he could even spice it up a little bit with some of the new spices and produce that he picked up from the island earlier that day. The shitty old man never gave him this kind of variety to work with, but really it’s to be expected when you’re going from the weakest sea to easily one of the toughest. You simply couldn’t get food like this in the East Blue.

Most of what he’s found had mostly just been things that he had read from Zeff’s old logbooks that he was most definitively supposed to be in and not being read while he was sneaking off because it was painfully clear that no one had shown Patti how to hold a knife properly and was too stubborn to listen to him when he tried to correct him. And as funny as it would have been to see him get yelled at by the shitty geezer, he didn’t want to be in the room to be scolded for not trying to correct this glaringly obvious mistake. If he was going to get scolded, it might as well have been for something he had done. That is, if he was ever caught doing it. Which he wasn’t, so there was absolutely no proof that he had done anything.

Thinking back to the Baratie just made him think of the stupid songs they’d used to sing during work hours when they reached the lull between lunch and dinner rush. God those were some shitty songs. They were all so stupid and annoying and just so catchy. Ugh, it was the worst thing getting one of those songs stuck in his head.

Maybe he’d just focus more on scrubbing and then this would just solve itself and he wouldn’t have to suffer in this hell. He’d just focus on getting every last bit of the counter clean and then He’d have nothing to worry about. There’s nothing else but the brush in his hand and-

Shit! He was brushing out the rhythm of that stupid song. There was no getting it out of his head. It was just going to be stuck in there forever. He was going to be forever stuck in this hell until another song got stuck in his head and who knew how long it’d be until that happened. The question was, could he be able to live with it stuck in there without it slipping out.

He had one option. It was risky, but with a quick glance to the clock he could see that he’d still have time before Luffy barged in and demanded food. He had no other choice really. He took a deep breath in.

  “I know you want me baby, I think I want you to. I think I love you too. I’m here to save you girl, come be in Shady’s world.” He started rapping quietly as he scrubbed the counter rhythmically. Now that he started, he didn’t feel like he sounded too bad. He actually sounded pretty good.

As his confidence grew, so too did his volume. No one was in his kitchen and he’d know if someone was coming in anyways. He didn’t have to worry. He could sing to his heart’s content and no one would be any the wiser. Had it been a better song, he would have been fine with. There was no doubt in his mind that they’d be blown away.

“Don’t touch what you can’t grab, end up with two backhands.” By this point, all cleaning had stopped in favor of this imaginary concert to his imaginary masses who were practically throwing themselves at the stage he was on. Damn he was good. Probably the best.

He’d probably sound better if he was rapping into an actual microphone and not a scrubbing brush, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He knew that he was damn good at this anyways and if there were any short comings it wouldn’t be on him. That would clearly be a case of faulty equipment and his rapping was still amazing.

“Wow. You’re really bad at rapping.” Suddenly the crowds of women disappeared into nothingness, leaving only the galley, his captain, and his shame in their place. He could feel the familiar hot wash of embarrassment crash over him like a tsunami. He couldn’t tell right now if that look on Luffy’s face was meant to be taken as him just being an ass, but that’s how he was going to take it. Shitty rubber bastard.

“That’s okay, I’m not good at it either.” As if that were any consolation. Taking a look over at the clock, he could see that a good twenty minutes had gone by. So it turned out his little private concert had gone on longer than he thought. He couldn’t help but wonder in mortified horror how long Luffy had been sitting there listening.

Seeing as there was very little else to do, a swift kick was delivered directly into his captain’s face. It wouldn’t really hurt the captain, but it sure as shit made him feel a little better. He was just going to kick him until he was knocked clean out of the room. He no longer gave a shit that it was two forty-five. He was just going to have to sit out there and think about what he’s done.

To think he was going to try and get this done so they could just have a little chat one on one. He was so lucky it was against his moral code to let anyone go hungry or else he’d have him wait until at least supper time before he gave him anything. That shitty rubber bastard was really trying his patience. He’d just leave it outside the galley door and keep that bastard from coming back in.

Now he didn’t even feel like making something extravagant anymore. Maybe he’d make a spicy pasta dish instead, and then he’d make something special for Chopper. He’d make sure that everyone got meat except that bastard who didn’t understand how to knock and who decided for the first time in his damn life to open to door like a normal person and not swing it open like some sort of savage. Stupid shitty rubber bastard.


End file.
